


Nothing's Impossible

by owlmoose



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Based on Fan Art, Big Bang Challenge, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, F/M, Missing Scene, Reunions, Reverse Big Bang Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5393900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the terrible events at Adamant Fortress, Natia Brosca refuses to believe that Alistair is lost forever. She visits Skyhold, determined to do whatever it takes to go into the Fade and get him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing's Impossible

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Reunited](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/162248) by Lunafeather. 



> Written for the 2015 round of the Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang, based on artwork by lunafeather on Tumblr, which you can see [here](http://lunafeatherart.tumblr.com/post/134962522429/reunited-by-lunafeather-this-is-my-submission). There's also another story based on the art, written by moodyrebelmage, which can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5397668). 
> 
> The Natia Brosca in this story was created specifically for it and is not connected to any of my other Dragon Age canons, although I based her personality on the Natia of Justify the Means.

Natia Brosca, Hero of Ferelden, Champion of Redcliffe, and sometime Commander of the Grey, kicked the locked door of the broom closet with a growl. "Lemme out!"

"No," came an infuriatingly calm voice from the other side of the door. "Not until you give up on this foolishness."

"It's not foolishness." Through the dim light, she glared at the doorknob. "If you hadn't lifted my lock picks," she grumbled, "this conversation would be going very differently." Her captor chuckled, and she kicked the door again. "Nathaniel Howe, I am your commanding officer, and I order you to let me out of this closet. Right. Now."

She swore she could hear him shaking his head. "I would say, only if you promise not to immediately dart off, chasing impossible rumors. But I know you'd be lying."

Natia sighed and turned around, leaning her back against the door as she sank to the ground. "You know me too well."

"So I do." A series of soft thumps behind her suggested that he had followed suit. She could even picture him, hands crossed casually over his bony knees, his head tipped back against the door. "I know you want to go to Adamant, Commander. But we left Orlais for a reason."

"A number of reasons," Natia agreed. "Between Clarel's suspicious summons and the panic of the Calling, getting out was the best plan at the time. Especially since--" She stopped, the disappointment of the false lead still too raw and bitter to discuss. They'd felt so close to an answer. To a cure. To their salvation. "Anyway, you know all that. But now the Calling is gone, and there are new rumors. New leads. And if there's any chance, any at all..."

"There's not." Nathaniel's response was soft, gentle, caring. It made Natia want to scream. "I'm sorry, Natia. But dozens of witnesses saw Alistair fall into that Fade breach, and not come out again." 

She shook her head. "I refuse to accept that."

"You have to accept it." His voice turned hard. "We need you in control, Natia. Not chasing a fantasy."

She pressed the back of her head against the rough boards of the door. "I can't give up, Nathaniel. I'm sorry. If there are answers at Adamant, or with the Inquisition..." Then she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "But I won't go anywhere today. Just-- let me out, okay? And then we can talk this through like adults."

The soft rustling noises told Natia that Nathaniel had stood up. "You swear it? By the beards of your ancestors?"

"I'm casteless, remember? My ancestors don't count." He chuckled. "But you can trust my word. I hope you know that by now."

He was silent for a moment. "Very well," he finally said. "I'll go get the key."

"I'll be waiting." His footsteps receded away, and she closed her eyes to let the grief take her, wash over her for just a moment. Just a moment, before she had to regain control and be Warden Commander again.

-x-

The terrible news from Adamant had been waiting when she arrived at the old Grey Warden safe house on the outskirts of Montfort: Clarel had taken the Wardens to the fortress, where the mages had slaughtered the others to raise a demon army. A stupid move, a desperate move; Natia was glad she hadn't been there to see it -- or would be, but for Alistair. He had been with Clarel when the madness of the false Calling started, looking for more information about red lyrium while Natia chased her lead about a possible cure for the taint. A lead that had come to nothing in the end, drawing her out to the ass end of nowhere, and she wondered, now, whether Clarel had planted the intel in a bid to draw her away from the other Wardens. Natia had ended a Blight, after all -- she might have been able to influence people, keep them from going along with her mad plan. 

Now Clarel was dead, along with at least a hundred others. Some slain by their brethren in a rite of blood magic, the rest killed in the fighting with demons or the Inquisition. And one-- one lost to the Fade. The best of them. The one Natia had most cared about saving. 

_"We regret to inform you that the Senior Warden Alistair fell into what we believe to be a Fade rift during the battle at Adamant Fortress. Although the others of his party returned, he did not, and he is presumed dead. The Inquisitor claims that he stayed behind to ensure her escape, and that of her companions. His sacrifice will not be forgotten."_ The words were seared into her brain, though she had destroyed the letter, crumpling it into a tiny ball and flinging it into the fireplace. Now, three days later, alone in the dark, her hands reflexively closed into fists again. In death, sacrifice? "Fuck that," she said, out loud. "He won't be forgotten, all right. He won't be forgotten because I'm getting him back."

The door behind her opened, and she lurched forward in a desperate bid to avoid tumbling backwards into the hallway. Then she twisted her head around to look up at Nathaniel, a large brass key in his hand. He stuck it in his pocket with a sigh. "I thought we agreed--"

"I said I wouldn't go running off today," she countered, standing up, knocking the dust from hands. "I didn't say I wouldn't leave at all."

He crossed his arms and stared at her, hard. "Natia. I understand. But this is madness."

She glared right back. "And if it was someone you loved? Who had vanished into the Fade -- a place where you've been before, and returned from safely -- are you saying that you wouldn't at least make the _attempt_?"

For a long time they stood there, eyes locked in a battle of wills; Nathaniel looked away first. "That was different," he said, quietly. "We didn't enter the Fade physically, just in dreams. What you're suggesting is impossible."

Natia threw her hands in the air. "I'm a dwarf. I'm not supposed to be able to dream. I'm not supposed to be able to go to the Fade at all. But I did, twice. And I came back both times. So don't talk to me about what's impossible." 

Nathaniel pressed his lips together into a hard, thin line, and he turned away, his shoulders tight. Natia felt a stab of guilt, and she sighed. "Look," she said, "I know you're just concerned about me. But you should know by now that you aren't talking me out of it."

He glanced back at her, a near-smile on his face. "Don't talk to me about what's impossible." Natia chuckled, and he shook his head. "No, I do realize that I am unlikely to change your mind. But if you go to Adamant--"

"Skyhold," Natia said. "I had time to think, stuck alone in the dark, and I think it makes more sense to start with the Inquisition than to comb an abandoned fortress for clues."

"Skyhold, then," Nathaniel echoed with a nod. "Regardless, wherever you go, I'm not letting you do it alone."

"Oh, no." Natia stepped back, shaking her head, as he turned around again. "No, no, no. This is my problem, my risk to take, I can't--"

"You can, and you will." He stepped closer, wry smile growing. "You should know that you aren't talking us out of helping you, any more than I could talk you out of going in the first place."

"Us?" Natia raised her eyebrows in alarm. "You don't mean--"

"Sigrun, Velanna, and Carver." Nathaniel's voice was calm, but also firm. "I've already spoken to them, and they wouldn't have it any other way."

"Carver? He's here?" Natia asked. "I thought he was with his sister's friends."

"He was," Nathaniel replied, "but once she returned to Kirkwall, he headed straight here. He arrived shortly after I invited you to wait in the closet." He cracked a small smile, which she had to return. "He said something about not being kept in cotton forever. Regardless, he cares about Alistair too, you know. We all do. And more importantly, you're our commander. You ran off on one mad mission without us, and I'll be damned if I let you take on another."

Natia shook her head again, but she knew the battle was lost. "All right," she finally said. "I don't know what I've done to deserve such stupid loyalty, but I'll take it."

Nathaniel chuckled, and she stepped out of the closet, firmly closing the door behind her.

-x-

"Look. Is that a Fade rift?" 

Natia and her team had been three days on the road, first making their way to Val Chevin and then booking passage across the Waking Sea to Ferelden. In all that time, she'd seen no evidence of the Breach, but now she turned in the direction Nathaniel was pointing, just above a bend in a stream where she saw -- something. A smear of green light, dancing and weaving like smoke hanging in mid-air. She'd never seen a green that bright in nature, only in flashes off mage staffs. "It's like the rift in the sky," she said.

"Yes," Velanna replied. "Except that was much larger, and more ominous."

"Yeah," Sigrun said. "Except for the weird color, this one seems more like a light show than a threat." 

"Hmm." Natia began to circle the rift, considering potential angles of approach. "And now we know for sure that the Fade is on the other side. Maybe we could just go through here, save ourselves a trip." The green glow was awfully close to the water, but maybe if she came at it from the left bank--

Carver stopped her from behind, a firm hand on her shoulder. "Don't," he said. "If we get too close, demons may feel our presence through the rift." Natia turned around and raised an eyebrow at him, and he nodded. "My sister saw it happen, when she was traveling with the Inquisitor. They'll start coming, and they'll keep coming until the rift is closed. And since only the Inquisitor can close a rift--"

"We'd get overrun by demons," Natia concluded. "And even if we managed to escape, or get into the Fade without being killed, we'd have infested this whole area." She stepped back reluctantly. "All right. Never mind. We keep moving, and keep our distance if we see any more." Swallowing down the bitter tang of disappointment, she turned away from the tiny beacon of green hope and back to the long road that would take them to the Frostback Mountains.

-x-

No one much talked to her the rest of the day, leaving her mostly alone until they made camp that night. It was Sigrun who approached, a hank of rabbit in each hand and handed one to Natia, who took it with a grateful bite.

"You okay?" she asked.

Natia shrugged, finished her bite and swallowed. "I guess. I-- it was a little disappointing, to have just a moment when I thought we might be close and then-- nope. So much for that idea."

"I bet." Sigrun settled down next to Natia. "You seem so calm most of the time, we forget how hard this must be for you, not really knowing whether he's dead or alive."

Natia set aside her food and lifted her chin to stare straight into the fire. "But I do know. He's alive. I have to believe that he's alive." She closed her eyes for a moment, let her control slip, felt her throat closing with grief and fear. "If I thought-- if I didn't believe, then I couldn't go on. It's as simple as that."

Sigrun slipped an arm around her shoulder. "Yes, you could. You're strong, your life would go on."

She shook her head fiercely. "If he were dead-- if he had died in front of me, or on a battlefield, somewhere I could see his body, then-- then I could believe. Then I could mourn him and move on." She pulled herself free of Sigrun and turned toward her, heedless of the tears she felt welling in the corner of her eye. "But this? This-- vanishing, where no one knows for sure? No. I can't. He's alive. He has to be." Then she swallowed hard and looked away, brushing her face dry. "At least, until I have proof that he's not."

"I get it," Sigrun said. "Believe me." She sent Natia a sideways glance. "It's like the Legion of Dead, but in reverse." Despite her fears, Natia chuckled, and Sigrun grinned. "Okay, if I can make you laugh with a joke that terrible, I know things aren't so bad."

"It wasn't that terrible," Natia replied, nudging Sigrun with her shoulder. "But thanks for keeping me company."

"Any time, boss." And they fell into companionable silence as they ate and watched the fire burn down to embers.

-x-

Some days later, Natia sat in Leliana's office at Skyhold, if you could call it an office -- she was holed up in the rookery, at the top of the tallest tower in the fortress. A hell of a view, if awfully drafty. "So you got my message?"

"Both of them." Leliana leaned forward in her seat, elbows resting on the desk. "I take it your quest to find a cure for the taint was unsuccessful."

"Not remotely," Natia confirmed. "I suspect it was a false lead, designed to get me out of Clarel's way."

"A wise move on her part, if so." Leliana sat back with a sigh. "Still, disappointing. I’m sorry. And so I presume you're here about the second message?" She rested her palm on a sheet of parchment, which Natia recognized as her hastily scribbled note, sent by raven only moments before she'd left Nevarra.

"That's right. So, have you spoken with the Inquisitor?"

Leliana stood and walked over to the window, hands behind her back. "I'm sorry, my friend, but I fear that your request has been denied."

"It has?" Natia jumped out of her seat, nearly tipping it over, and rushed to Leliana's side,. "But why?"

"It's too dangerous. Opening rifts destabilizes the Veil and attracts the attention of demons. The Inquisitor is committed to closing rifts, not opening them. She will not risk it."

Natia shook her head. "We can't accept that answer. Please, you have to convince her to help me."

Leliana pursed her lips together. "But I am not so sure I disagree." She looked down at Natia, eyes haunted. "Losing Alistair to the Fade was devastating. If I'd thought it possible to get him back, I would have mounted a rescue mission long ago. But I asked not only the Inquisitor but several mages -- First Enchanter Vivienne, Grand Enchanter Fiona, even Morrigan. All of them said the same thing: there is no way to guarantee your safe passage through a rift. No one has ever passed through without the Inquisitor and her mark. Even if you made it through, you would have no way of knowing where in the Fade Alistair might be. It would be a fool's errand. And may I say that I am just selfish enough that I could not stand to lose you both?"

Natia stared up at her friend, disbelieving. A hot rush of something -- disappointment, anger, grief -- pulled her away, around, down the stairwell. Was Leliana calling out to her? It didn't matter, not if she couldn't help. Natia stumbled down the steps, blinded by sudden tears, unheeding of what might be before her. Through the haze, she spied what looked like a couch, and she threw herself onto it, pressing her hot face into the rough cushion. How was this possible? She was so sure that Leliana was her answer. Without that, without her good word in the Inquisitor's ear...

"May I help you?" The voice was smooth, betraying only a hint of irritation. Natia turned to see a male elf looking down at her, arms crossed, eyebrows drawn in. 

"Sorry, I didn't know anyone was here." Natia tried to wipe her face surreptitiously, then gave it up as a bad job. He couldn't have missed her tears; no point trying to hide them. She sat up. "Apologies for invading your space. I'll just go now." Standing, she looked around and tried to decide which of the three visible doors was the fastest way outside.

"No, wait." The elf held up a hand to stop her. "You are the Warden, correct? The Hero of Ferelden?"

She nodded. "The one and only." Then she snorted. "As much good as it does me," she muttered under her breath. 

He smiled, faintly. "Being the savior of the world not as profitable as you expected, is it?"

"You have no idea," she said. "But, anyway, yep. That's me. What can I do for you?"

"I suspect it might be the other way around." He inclined his head in a nod. "My name is Solas, and I am a mage with considerable experience working in the Fade. It seems a reasonable guess that you are in search of a way to retrieve your colleague who was lost at Adamant. Am I correct?"

She raised an eyebrow and peered at him more closely. "Perceptive," she said. At first glance, he seemed moderate in every way -- average height for an elf, moderate build, calm voice, beige clothes, the only memorable thing about him being his totally bald head, slightly shiny in the light of the torches set around the room. But there was something keen and sharp in his eyes, the way he looked at her, seemingly sizing her up. "And you think you can help."

"Perhaps." He gestured to the couch, and she sat back down while he took a seat beside him. "I did not have the opportunity to speak with the Grey Warden Alistair while I was here. but I understand that he was one of you companions during the Blight. And I certainly understand what might drive you to rescue a friend, to right a wrong."

"I appreciate the thought," Natia replied. "But I spoke to Leliana, and she seems to think that it's impossible. Even if the Inquisitor were to open a way into the Fade for me, there's no guarantee my safe passage through. And even if we could do _that_ , there's no way of knowing where Alistair is now." The despair returned, clawing at her throat, and she forced it down with a hard swallow. Solas might be an unexpectedly sympathetic audience, but there was no way she would start crying in front of him again. Dignity demanded nothing less.

Solas shook his head. "I am very familiar with the Fade and its byways. If we can get beyond the barrier, I might prove a good guide. And we have a further advantage." He leaned closer and lower his voice. "I often journey to the Fade in my dreams, and I have seen signs of your Alistair there, signs that I may be able to track."

"Really?" Natia sat bolt upright, heart hammering in her ears. "You aren't just saying that?"

"I would not lie to you, Warden," Solas said. His eyes turned solemn. "Another truth, then: the Fade carries many dangers, even for a child of the Stone such as yourself."

"I know the risks. I've been to the Fade twice." Solas lifted an eyebrow, and she nodded. "It's supposed to be impossible, I know. But it happened. So you'll understand when I say that things being impossible don't usually stop me from trying. If I let that get in my way, I wouldn't be here to ask for your help." She frowned then. "So-- why didn't Leliana ask you about this, if your specialty is the Fade? She said she asked all the mages."

"I do not know." He lifted a shoulder, dismissing the question. "I have sometimes felt that perhaps she does not trust me. But that is neither here nor there -- she need not be involved. Only the Inquisitor needs to know, and I feel certain that I can convince her."

Finally, Natia let herself feel hope again. "Thank you," she said, swallowing hard past the sudden lump in her throat.

"You are welcome," Solas replied. "I will speak with the Inquisitor soon, and hope to return to you with a positive response."

-x-

But no word came from Solas; instead, a summons to the Inquisition War Room arrived the next morning, a runner delivering the message to Natia as she took breakfast with the other soldiers, sitting with her Wardens in a far corner of the mess tent. The Inquisition soldiers were friendly enough, but suspicion of the Wardens still radiated from them, even though they knew that neither she nor her team had been involved with Clarel or the fighting at Adamant. Best to keep their distance, for now. The note was terse, a simple request to meet the Inquisitor "at her earliest convenience", which Natia judged to be as soon as she finished her coffee. Taking the last gulp, she set the mug down on the table and looked at Nathaniel. "Join me? And you," she indicated Velanna, Sigrun, and Carver, "wait by the tent. I'll be back when there's news."

"Yes, Warden Commander," they replied in chorus, and Natia and Nathaniel went into the palace, walking in silence up the stairs, through the main hall and a long corridor into the heart of the Inquisition, where the Inquisitor was waiting with Leliana and Solas.

"Close the door," the woman said. She was a human woman, tall, with short grey hair and a forbidding expression. "So," she said. "You're the Hero of Ferelden."

"I am," Natia replied. "Thank you, Inquisitor, for your hospitality, and for entertaining my request for aid."

"Well, I can't say I think much of your plan." From the dark look that the Inquisitor sent to Leliana, Natia had to wonder if her old friend had been under orders to give her the brush-off. It would certainly explain why she hadn't really talked to all the mages who might have been able to help. The woman turned back to Natia, frowning. "I could open a Fade rift for you, but I'd have to close it right behind -- an open rift poses too many dangers, especially in an area so enclosed as Skyhold. So I can't guarantee that you'll be able to get out. Any of you." Her scowl moved to Solas, who calmly returned her gaze. "I don't want to lose one of my companions. Nor do I wish to be remembered as the person who sent the Hero of the Fifth Blight to her death."

"I take full responsibility," Natia said. "For myself, and anyone who joins me. We know the risks, Inquisitor. It's not for you to say whether or not we should take them."

"Well, that depends, now, doesn't it?" The Inquisitor crossed her arms. "The Grey Wardens of Orlais and Ferelden submitted to my authority when they surrendered at Adamant."

Natia raised an eyebrow. "Good thing I was assigned to Nevarra, then."

The Inquisitor's glower darkened, then lifted all at once as she barked out a shout of laughter and dropped her hands to her sides. "You may have me there." She looked at Solas again. "You're sure about this? I can't really afford to lose you."

Solas inclined his head. "It's no more dangerous than any other mission you've set me."

"Isn't it?" She leaned forward, resting her hands on the table. Natia found her eye drawn to the brilliant green light that flashed from beneath her palm -- the same green as the rift they'd seen in Orlais. "And even if I agreed, when I send you on a mission, it's because I've calculated that its benefit, and the likelihood that your talents will help complete it, outweigh the risk of sending you. All I have to gain from this side trip is the Warden's favor." She glanced up and met Natia's eye. "Which is not nothing," she added. "You are quite an influential person in Thedas. Especially in Ferelden. So maintaining your good opinion is of interest to me."

"I appreciate that," said Natia. "And the same goes for your good opinion, of course. If inviting Solas along risks making you an enemy, then I might encourage him to stay behind. I feel a whole lot better about my chances if he comes, though."

"As do I." The Inquisitor sighed, and drummed her fingers on the table. "Well. I suppose I'm out of arguments then. Very well, I'll open the way for you. Meet me in the courtyard, first thing in the morning."

Natia bowed. "Thank you, Inquisitor. I can't promise you won't regret this. But I'll do my best."

She responded with a half smile. "I suppose you're equally motivated. Speak to my quartermaster if you need supplies. Or you might visit one of the many merchants in the courtyard."

"Right." The edge in the Inquisitor's voice suggested to Natia that she ought to check out the merchants first. Fortunately, she'd brought a decent amount of coin and had access to a much larger line of credit. She'd just-- fudge things a little, if anyone higher up in the Wardens ever asked her about it. With a frosty nod to Leliana, she turned and left, Nathaniel at her heels and Solas a few steps behind.

"Solas? May I speak with you, please? Alone." Halfway through the door, Natia glanced back at the Inquisitor, who had straightened up, a hard glint in her eye.

Solas glanced at Natia, then nodded. "Of course, Inquisitor. Natia, I will speak with you in the morning."

Natia nodded and continued out, Nathaniel shutting the door behind them. "Well," she said under her breath, "that went about as well as I could have hoped."

"Indeed," Nathaniel replied. "I do hope Solas is able to join us."

"I'm sure he'll talk his way out of whatever conditions she's trying to place on him." Natia shook her head. "I can't blame her for not wanting to lose her expert on Fade rifts. If I thought we stood any chance of finding Alistair and getting out of that place without his help, I really would tell him to stay. However I feel..." her voice trailed off, and she looked at the closed door again, swallowing down the lump in her throat. "If the choice is between getting Alistair back on one hand, and stopping Corypheus and closing the remaining rifts on the other, I know there's no contest." She stopped again, no longer able to speak, wracked with fear that she was making the wrong choice.

A strong hand fell on her shoulder, and she looked up into Nathaniel's sober eyes. "There is no crime in wanting to have both," he said.

She glanced at the floor, then back up. "Thanks."

He patted her back. "Now, let's see about outfitting ourselves for this journey. We'll need ample provisions, for one -- I can't imagine there will be much to eat the Fade."

"Or that we would want to eat the food we found any," Natia added with a shudder.

Nathaniel chuckled. "True. Come, let's make a list."

-x-

When Natia emerged in the courtyard the next morning, Wardens at her back, the sky was still dark, the sun not yet having made its appearance over the mountains. It was just the five of them -- the front door to the keep was firmly shut, the guards of the night watch still at their posts. They had been traveling incognito, thanks to the trouble that the local Grey Wardens had recently caused, but today everyone was kitted out in their official armor, silver and blue, polished and gleaming. She turned around and looked at her team.

"It's not too late to stay behind," she said. "This is a personal errand. I'd feel a lot better if I weren't risking my friends' lives along with my own."

Her team exchanged a number of glances, and they all faced her at once, though Nathaniel was the only one to speak. "Sorry, Warden Commander. You still aren't talking us out of it."

"I didn't think so." She sighed. "But you know I had to try."

"Of course you did," Sigrun said. "And that's the reason we're here." She smiled, and Natia smiled back; at that moment, the heavy stone door scraped open, and three figures appeared on the top landing: the Inquisitor, Solas, and Leliana.

"So." The Inquisitor walked down the stairway in the lead, taking a place directly in front of Natia. "You're still determined to do this?"

Natia squared her shoulders. "I am."

"Very well." She held out her Marked hand, still balled in a fist, the green light winking between her fingers. "Then if you're ready, let's get it over with. Solas?"

He stepped forward and took a place by Natia's side as they exchanged nods. "Ready."

"All right." The Inquisitor looked at him for a long moment, then turned to Natia again. "Once you're through and in the Fade, I'm closing the rift right behind you. Even such a brief tear in the Veil might attract demons. I'm not risking an invasion of Skyhold. And you may have a fight on your hands after you pass through."

Natia nodded. "I've planned for that."

"To escape, you'll need to make your way to another open rift," the Inquisitor said. "There are still dozens, all over Thedas. Solas should be able to track one down for you. But you should be aware that I will close rifts as I come across them. I doubt I'll close every rift in Thedas in the next month, or however long you'll be gone. But you're taking a risk here.

Natia shrugged. "This whole endeavor is risky; what's one more on the pile? I trust Solas to find us a way out."

"That's the last thing I had to say." She inclined her head. "Except-- good luck. I didn't know Alistair well, but he was a good man. Is a good man. I was sorry to leave him behind, and even though I recommended against this mission, I do hope you get him back."

Natia lifted a fist to her heart in salute. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The Inquisitor opened her fingers and pointed her palm to the sky "Here goes."

"Wait!" Leliana bolted forward, stopped a bare inch in front of Natia. Her brow furrowed, and her mouth twisted. "I'm-- I'm sorry, my friend. Sorry that I didn't try to do more for you." She leaned forward and grabbed Natia into a hug; she stiffened, then softened, putting her arms around Leliana's waist. "Come home safe," she murmured.

"That's the plan," Natia said, patting Leliana on the back. 

"Good." She stepped back, eyes soft. "You always follow through on your plans, so I will hold you to it." She glanced at the Inquisitor, head bowed. "Apologies."

The Inquisitor waved her off, then whipped her arm around, pointing her hand into the middle of the courtyard, a beam of brilliant green light shooting past them all and swirling into a vortex. Natia thought back to the Fade Rift she had seen on their journey to Skyhold. It had seemed small and friendly in comparison. A minute passed, and then she broke the contact, leaving only the portal. "Now go!"

Without taking any time to think -- there was no time for fear, not even apprehension -- Natia pulled her blades free as she ran for the glowing green light. She kept her eyes fixed on the eerie brilliance and pushed her way through the gateway. 

And the world..... changed... as she plunged through to the other side, twisting, falling, streaks of green and yellow light racing past her as she tumbled through the air, down the side of a mountain, bouncing like a rock in an avalanche. She hit a bump and then went flying again; she tucked herself into a ball, shielding her head with locked sword and dagger, and she hit the ground rolling, then popped up, weapons out, and took a quick look around as she steadied herself.

She saw-- Skyhold, but not like the Skyhold she had exited only moments ago. This Skyhold was a ruin: its towers crumbled, its walls cracked, broken, and covered with ivy, moss and boulders creeping over its grounds. She looked up to the one gateway tower that still stood, an unfamiliar flag half-furled around the pole. "Huh," she said, turning toward Solas, who stood next to her. "I thought the Fade captured dreams of the past."

"The past, the future, times that never were," Solas replied. "The structure we see now could represent any of those. Skyhold has been destroyed and rebuilt a number of times."

"Has it?" She cast him a sharp look. "The Tevinter Imperium didn't build it?"

Solas shook his head. "Skyhold is far older than that. The elves built here first. It was a place of safety, and power." He gestured toward the closest pile of rubble. "The structure of the keep itself is Fereldan, though many others have tried to claim it. The Inquisition is only the most recent in a long line of residents."

"Hm." She looked up at the sky, which was the same swirling green expanse she recognized from her previous visits, the Black City looming in the distance -- north, if she had her directions right. But it felt different, too. The ground beneath her feet was more substantial. More real. She supposed that was the difference between visiting the Fade in person and through a dream. "So, everyone through?" She did another visual sweep of the ruined courtyard, frowning. Nathaniel stood up, rubbing the back of his head, but he was the only one she saw -- no Sigrun, no Carver, no Velanna. No demons either, at least. "Where did the others go?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "They didn't make it through. The rift was already collapsing by the time I reached it -- I had to dive inside. And they were both behind me. It's sheer luck that I wasn't caught between the worlds.

Solas looked up at the top of the highest remaining wall, back along the fresh landslide they'd created in the rubble as they fell. "The Inquisitor closed the rift before they could follow." He lowered his eyes, then looked at Natia. "At Varric's request."

"What??" Natia's eyebrows shot up. "Why--"

"He asked her to ensure that Carver Hawke would not come on this errand," Solas said. "So she closed the portal before he could enter. A favor, I believe she said, for the Champion."

"Dammit, Hawke!" Natia let out a heavy sigh. "She's wrapping him in cotton, all right. I wish she would let me do my job. Carver is my responsibility, not hers, and if he wants to undertake a mission..." She shook her head. "Anyway. I'll have to have words with her when we get back." _If we get back._ "Well, at least there's no demons. Closing it faster might have helped with that, at least."

"Perhaps." Solas returned his staff to the sling on his back, and Natia sheathed her weapons in turn. "So. Back to the purpose of our trip."

"Right." Natia looked over at what remained of the gates. "I don't suppose there are horses in the Fade? Adamant is a long way from here."

Solas shook his head. "Travel and distance work very differently in the Fade. There's no reason to expect that Alistair is still where he first entered. And I have seen signs of a human traveler much closer to this place -- in the Hinterlands."

"Redcliffe," Natia murmured. "That was his home, as a boy. No surprise if he gravitated in that direction."

"It may also be that the Fade pulled him there." Solas held a finger to the sky, as if testing the wind, although the air was deathly still. "Though not quite as easy as traveling with a thought, as we could do were we dreamers, I can get us to the last place I saw trail sign within a few hours."

Natia looked at Nathaniel, who nodded. "Then lead the way."

-x-

Solas took them through a tunnel at the base of the ruined keep, probably the former dungeons, and into a cave system. Natia ran her finger along one of the walls, smoothed by millennia of dripping water. "Natural caves," she murmured, toeing the loose rocks on the floor. She glanced back at Nathaniel. "This isn't the Deep Roads, or at least it existed before the Deep Roads. No signs of construction, by dwarves or by darkspawn. Hey, Solas."

"Yes?" he said, not turning around -- he was at the front, lighting their path with a dancing green wisp.

"Are there even darkspawn in the Fade? I don't see any signs of them. Or feel their presence." She stopped for a moment and closed her eyes, reaching-- reaching-- "Not at all, not even in the distance." 

"Nor do I," Nathaniel said. "No sign of the taint at all, in fact." He tilted his chin toward Solas, lifted a finger to his lips, then pointed at her. 

"Huh." Natia reached again, and caught the feeling that meant Nathanial -- almost as familiar to her as the sound of her own voice -- and the taint in her own blood, but that was all, in the entire world. She gave him a quick nod, then raised her voice. "It's odd. I'm so used to the Blight as background noise, I barely even notice it most of the time. Weird to have it gone like that." Weird, and useful, she thought, catching Nathaniel's eye as he had the same realization -- once they got close enough, they could use the taint to track Alistair. And maybe the feeling would draw him to them, as well. 

"I have never seen darkspawn in the Fade," Solas said, "except in the thoughts of dreamers here. So I would not expect to encounter them. Spirits are the only potential dangers we need concern ourselves with. That, and running out of food. We can eat the plants of the Fade, but only as a last resort."

"Right." Natia tried not to think about Alistair, alone here for weeks already. He'd have figured something out. Putting the thought aside, she shouldered her pack higher. "Especially since Carver was carrying extra shares of provisions." She raised an eyebrow at Solas. "A little warning would have been nice on that one."

Solas spread his hands wide. "Apologies. I did not feel it was my place."

"What's done is done," she replied with a shrug. "Anyway, time's wasting. How much further?"

"Not far," Solas replied. "I should be able to get us there through only a few more bends of the cavern."

"Then let's do it." Silence fell as they continued on, Natia following Solas rather than attempting to navigate using her stone sense, which she didn't want to trust in the Fade. Though it felt odd, following a mage through unfamiliar territory. Normally Sigrun or Nathaniel would be in the lead, scouting out the way ahead. But there was nothing normal about this mission. 

The cave floor led down, then up, then around a long, gentle curve which was starting to feel less natural and more constructed -- though whether by dwarf masons or Solas's magic, Natia couldn't say. It was odd, how easily he shaped the Fade with a thought. Had Wynne or Morrigan managed that when confronting the Sloth demon? Or Anders, in their visit to the Blackmarsh Undying? Natia honestly could not remember, and the thought troubled her. Then again, Solas was a student of the Fade -- maybe that extended to this sort of manipulation as well.

"I'm never going to understand magic," she muttered under her breath, and she heard Nathaniel chuckle softly behind her. She shot him a glare. "What, like you know any better?"

He shook his head with a smile, and they continued on, the air a little warmer with the moment of levity, or maybe they were just approaching a lava field. The cave took another turn, and Solas stopped, stretching out staff to block Natia and Nathaniel from continuing around the blind curve. 

"Wait," he said softly. "Someone is ahead."

"Demons?" Natia asked, pulling her sword free from its sheath and trying to peek around him, in hopes of determining what type of enemy might lie ahead.

"Spirits," Solas corrected her, an air of irritation in his quiet reply. "We are in their realm, remember, not ours. And we have no way of knowing yet whether they mean us harm."

Nathaniel snorted. "Yes, the friendly spirits. Of faith, hope, justice. I know all about those."

Natia cast him a sharp look. "Not now." He lowered his eyes and looked away, grumbling a half-hearted apology; Natia returned her attention to Solas. "So, what do you recommend?"

"Wait for them to pass," Solas replied. "I may have attracted them by using magic to hasten our path. If I stop, they will likely lose interest and move on."

"Fine." Natia settled down into a squat and gestured for Nathaniel to stop pacing and join her, and after a moment he did, pulling out his canteen for a quick sip of water. "You okay?"

He glanced away. "Fine," he muttered. "I just-- after what happened, I--"

"I understand." Natia lightly patted his knee. "We can argue theology after we get Alistair back. Okay?"

He looked up and met her eyes, expression soft with sympathy. "Of course."

She reached out for the water and he handed it to her; she took a long drink to clean the dust out of her mouth. By her internal reckoning it had only been three or so hours of walking, but somehow it felt longer. And this waiting was even worse, like an ambush in reverse. She leaned back on her hands and sighed. "I wish Dog were here," she said. "He'd liven this place up."

Nathaniel chuckled. "Indeed. Though I suspect he's happier where he is."

"Doing stud duty in the Denerim kennels? Lazing in the courtyard, being lauded as a hero, visiting with the lady dogs as much as he likes?" Natia sighed. "Sounds pretty good to me right now, too." She thought about the last time she'd been in Denerim, over a year ago, delivering a message to Queen Anora and loaning Dog to the royal kennels -- he was too old to fight now, but not too old to contribute to the queen's breeding stock. She'd been promised a puppy, she and Alistair, and they'd gone together to watch the dogs play and talk about which one they'd pick, walking hand and hand through the market on a sunny day, just like the one she was picturing now...

She sat up and rubbed her face, dashing an unexpected tear from the corner of her eye. "Dammit," she whispered. "Please, Alistair. Please be alive." 

Nathaniel laid a hand on her back, between her shoulders. "We'll find him," he said, soft but fierce. "We will."

"Hsst!" Behind them, Solas finally moved, and Natia jumped to her feet, forcing the moment of grief and fear behind her. "They are coming," he said, gesturing around the corner with his staff, then looking out past the bend. "Get ready to-- ahh!"

He jerked back, flattening to the wall and narrowly missing a jet of flame. By the time Natia had pulled her blades, Nathaniel was already in the path of fire, first arrow loosed, second nocked and at the ready. "Rage demons!" he shouted, and he let the second arrow fly before rolling out of the way of a second blast.

"Got it," Natia called back, pulling a flask of heat salve out of her pocket to rub the cool cream briskly on her face and arms. Then she darted around the corner and rushed the demons -- three of them, tightly pressed together -- to try and get behind. One flung a fireball at her, but she pressed straight through the blast, trusting the salve to do its magic. Turning her hand she hit the first one with the sword hilt in what passed for a head; it bellowed and turned on her, woozily, moving too slow to avoid the fatal upward thrust from her enchanted dagger, specially tuned to work on demons. The creature fell as the second became encased in ice and the third, maddened with rage and filled with arrows, turned on her. She attacked with sword and dagger, slashing and stabbing, dodging its flailing hands, and then it too was down, dissolving in a puddle of angry red goo.

"Phew." Natia stepped back and wiped the salve from her brow. "That wasn't too bad. Fortunately." She turned to Solas, who was lowering his frost-covered staff. "So much for waiting until they go away."

"Apologies," he said. "I hadn't expected to attract quite that level of attention. I could avoid manipulating the Fade from here on out, but our journey would be much longer."

Natia shook her head. "It's worth the risk. But no more waiting out potential attackers. Either we fight or we run, whichever seems more prudent."

"As you say, Warden," Solas replied with a nod. "Come, the Hinterlands shouldn't be too much further."

-x-

It was another two or so hours in the cave system, and three brief battles and one hasty escape, before they emerged into -- well, not daylight, Natia thought, looking up at the strange green sky where no sun reigned, only the distant, hulking shapes of the Black City. But she did immediately recognize Redcliffe. The tunnel exited from beneath the castle and into the outskirts of town, next to Lake Calenhad at the docks. The village was pristine, untouched by walking corpses or darkspawn, a collection of wooden huts around the Chantry, looking almost exactly as it had when Natia had first seen it over a decade ago, but for the lack of dead bodies.

Solas looked around. "This is Redcliffe? You are sure?"

"I'm sure," Natia answered. "It's changed a lot -- it grew after the Blight, because lots of people from the surrounding areas settled here. This is how it looked before."

"Interesting," Nathaniel said. "Alistair's boyhood home, yes? Perhaps he is responsible for the time setting, if he picked the Redcliffe he remembered best."

"Maybe," Natia agreed, "if he's even here."

"He was." Solas stepped out from the shadow of the cliff, staff held in two outstretched hands. "This place has been touched by mortal feet, and recently."

"And also, isn't that the remains of a campfire?" Nathaniel pointed to a blackened spot in the clearing, and Natia rushed forward to get a closer look at the small pile of charred logs.

"It is," she whispered, picking up one and sniffing at its blackened end, the comforting scent of ashes filling her nose. "And look." She crept around the circle, running her fingers over the grass, crushed in the shape of a footprint. It was the right size and shape to be Alistair's, and she nearly leapt to her feet. "That way," she said, pointing with trembling fingers along the trail that led out of the clearing and toward the large hill out of town. "I'm sure of it."

"I believe you're right," Solas replied. "My sense confirms what you see." 

"This isn't more than a day or so old," Nathaniel said. "I suspect he's not far." He cast Natia a questioning look, and she nodded, then closed her eyes and reached out for signs of the Blight. In looking, she instantly found it -- the small blot of darkness in the distance that meant the taint, that meant the Blight. 

And, in its exact shape and feeling, meant Alistair. 

"I'm coming, love," she whispered, opening her eyes. And then she set off at a run in the direction her Warden senses led. "I'm coming!"

Not caring if her compatriots followed, she charged up the slope, over the bridge, through the city walls, and into the hills beyond, no longer following the trail but the corruption in Alistair's blood. Never had she been so grateful to feel it, been so happy to be marked for death. Up the hill, down the path as it curved around a boulder, and as she crested another hill there he was, standing in the middle of the road and looking wildly around. Without stopping, she cupped her hands around her mouth. "Alistair!"

His head whipped around; seeing her, he broke into a run of his own. She ran faster, letting gravity take her down the hill, her feet picking a path by instinct as tears blurred her vision. At the bottom of the hill, they met, and he grabbed her, his hands on her waist, and lifted her up into a kiss, long and hard and fierce. She brought her arms around his neck and kissed him in return, on his cheeks, his nose, his chin, then settling into his lips again, burying a hand in his hair.

"Natia. My love." He murmured the words between kisses. "I thought I felt you, but it couldn't possibly be you, but then it was. You're here. You came!" He crushed her close, and she kissed him again.

"Of course I came," she said. Alistair set her back on the ground, but still held her close, hands stroking her upper arms, his own eyes wet, tears tracking down his cheeks. She brushed them away with a finger, then blinked her own eyes clear. "I knew you were alive. I knew it!"

"Am I?" Alistair glanced up at the sky. "I was never really sure."

She giggled, almost floating away in sudden relief. "Well, I can tell you that I'm alive. So you probably are, too."

"Praise the Maker," Alistair murmured, and then he pulled her tight. "I should have known you wouldn't give up on me."

"Damn straight," she said, pressing her forehead into his breastplate. "What possessed you to stay behind, anyway?"

"Someone had to do it," he said. "And the Wardens made the mess in the first place; it was only right for a Warden to clean it up."

"Sounds to me like it was Corypheus's mess, but we can argue about that later." Natia looked up and into his beautiful face. "First, we need to get out of here."

"Right." He frowned. "And how are we supposed to do that?"

"I brought some help," she said, and then turned to look up the hill, where Nathaniel and Solas were just emerging from behind the summit. "Yo! I found him!" She pulled out of his embrace, but caught his hand as she did so. She found that she wasn't ready to not be touching him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"I can see that," Nathaniel called back with a wave. "Hello, Alistair."

"Nathaniel," Alistair replied. "And you're-- Solas, I believe? From the Inquisition?"

Solas acknowledged Alistair's guess with a slight tip of his head. "I have long studied the Fade, and so I was able to track you here. Partway; I suspect your friend here was able to follow some signal the remaining mile or so." He raised an eyebrow at Natia, who only smiled back. The Wardens could surely hold onto a few secrets yet. "And now I will be the one to get you out."

"Through a Fade rift?" Alistair shook his head. "I thought of that. But most of them haven't been large enough, and those that were are guarded by packs of demons."

"You'll have help with those demons now," Natia said, squeezing his head. "Unless you think jamming through one of the small ones would be better?" This last was directed to Solas, who shook his head.

"I cannot open Fade rifts any more than I can close them," he said. "We will have to fight."

"Good thing that's what we'd planned for, then." Natia touched Alistair's arm. "Are you well? Do you need healing, or provisions? What have you been doing for food and water?"

Alistair made a face. "Well, it's put me in mind of too many unpleasant childhood tales, but the water seems drinkable enough. As do the edible plants I've found. Plain elfroots doesn't taste the best, but it's kept me alive, and heals the few injuries I've taken." Natia laid a hand on his arm; it was hard to tell through the armor, but she thought the plate might be hanging a bit loose on him, and now that she looked his cheeks seemed a bit gaunt. "There doesn't seem to be any game, though, outside of things that are probably demons." He sighed. "What I wouldn't do for a hunk of meat right about now."

"Here." Nathaniel rummaged through his pack, then pulled out a strip of jerky. Eyes wide with greed, Alistair grabbed the dried meat and wolfed it down, a grateful sigh between each bite.

"You are a prince among men," he told Nathaniel. "I knew there was a reason I liked you." Off Nathaniel's half-amused glare, he grinned, then looked back at Solas. "So, what next?"

"Take us to one of the Fade rifts that was guarded," Solas said. "Presuming the Inquisitor hasn't closed it in the meantime, that should be our best way out."

"All right." Alistair looked down the trail. "The closest one I remember was down by the river. Shouldn't be too far."

"And Solas can make it even closer." Natia lifted his hand and pressed her lips against his knuckles, then finally, reluctantly, let go. "Lead the way."

"Into the forest, even if you believe the road is a shorter path," Solas interjected. "I can more easily manipulate the Fade through natural terrain."

Alistair nodded, then veered up the steep side of the hill into the woods. Natia wanted nothing more than to dog his heels, be close to him and feel his warmth, but she kept a few steps back, letting Solas stay close so he could work his magic, while Nathaniel brought up the rear. They wound through the trees and underbrush, Natia almost catching several moments when one tree blended into another several steps before it, blurring their steps to cover the terrain in an instant. It took an hour of walking, picking their way over boulders and downed trees, but finally they crested a cliff near a waterfall.

"Down there," Alistair said, and they all followed his pointing finger to the rift that danced below the cataract, surrounded by half a dozen demons and spirits. Natia counted heads -- she saw at least a couple of despair demons and one pride demon, but she didn't recognize the others. Some put her in mind of the haunted trees of the Brecilian Forest; those might be nature spirits, and she reached into her bag for the corrupting poison. After dipping her blades and carefully sheathing them, she handed the vial to Nathaniel, who got to work on his arrows.

"So," she said as she faced the group, "how should we do this? Do we need to kill them all to escape, or could we just barrel through the rift with an all-out frontal assault?"

"It would be best to defeat them, or at the least drive them off," Solas said. "If any were to follow through the rift, it would draw other hostile spirits out of the Fade. Without the Inquisitor here to close the rift behind us, Redcliffe might be overrun."

"All right, to the death it is." Natia turned to Alistair. "You're strong enough to fight?"

Alistair hefted his shield. "That's home on the other side," he said. "Nothing is going to stop me."

She touched his cheek. "Just be careful. I'm not losing you again this soon after getting you back."

"Never fear." He caught her hand in his and brushed her fingertips with a kiss. "Nothing is keeping me from you, either."

"Good." She looked up at Nathaniel. "Okay, this is the plan. You draw out those stick-like spirits so we can engage them away from the rift."

"Terror demons," Solas said. "They are most vulnerable to spirit magic, if you have access to the appropriate potions."

Natia glanced in her supply pack. "I don't, so poison will have to do. Anyway, once they're out of the way, we can get in close to fight the despair demons -- it's not good to let them attack at range. Solas, once we get down there, can you handle the pride demon on your own?"

He hesitated, then lifted his staff, the tip glowing green. "I believe so. But should I require aid, I will alert you."

"All right. Nathaniel, make sure you get down there in time to get through the rift before more demons-- spirits, I mean, arrive. Everyone ready?" She checked the circle for nods. "Good. Then go!" 

She jumped down the side of the hill, skidding across the cliff face, keeping under cover as best she could. Alistair and Solas charged behind her; meanwhile, Nathaniel was already firing, and the terror spirits charged at his first hit, splashing through the river in an attempt to reach him. As they ran, a swirl of gravity magic surrounded them, yanked them together, then knocked them down with a blast of force. By the time she reached them, two had regained their footing, but the third was down, twitching, already dead. She sidestepped its body to slash at another, aiming for something that looked like a throat. The blade caught, and the creature roared, then lunged for her, grasping her arms with knobby, stick-like fingers. She twisted away, then lost her footing, sliding across a stone on the river bottom. Putting out her hands to catch herself, she vaulted herself back up and turned around, punching the spirit in the face with the hilt of her dagger. Roaring again, the demon pulled back and attempted to grab her again. With another slash of her blade, she cut through its left arm. It backed away, slower this time, the poison possibly catching up with it, and Natia went in for the kill, stabbing it in what she hoped was the stomach. 

They fell together, Natia knocking it down with her gut-punch and a war cry, while out the corner of her eye she saw Alistair smashing the third to bits with his shield. She got up, pushing away the water-soaked hair that was falling into her eyes, and went to help him, but there was no need -- he bellowed and knocked it aside, and it went flying, landing like a bundle of sticks in the river. He looked up, panting, a shallow cut on his forehead. "Got 'em," he said. "Let's take care of those despair demons."

"Right." Natia stepped sideways into the shadows, then circled around, hoping to catch the first demon unawares -- its attention remained on Nathaniel, who remained on the hillside, peppering the field with arrows. One arrow flew into the rift and vanished, and for a second Natia allowed herself to be amused by the image of a random arrow appearing as if from nowhere on the other side. And then she focused on Alistair as he closed with the other demon, shouting, slamming it with not just his shield but his whole body. The demon shuddered with the impact, then drew back with a cackle, zipping backwards toward the riverbank while firing a blast of blue light. Alistair lifted his shield to deflect the spell, barely in time; Natia forced herself to look away from him and keep approaching the demon she had targeted, who still seemed not to have noticed her. When she was close enough, she launched her whole body, coming at the demon from the side and grabbing, pinning its arms to the sides, hoping to keep it from casting. It screeched in her ear before turning cold, freezing, like a lump of icy metal, and the burning sensation forced Natia to let go, pushing herself away with a scream. The demon rose up over her, its flashing blue eyes boring into hers, and Natia held up her blades, slashing wildly with her sword as she pulled the dagger in to protect her face.

"Solas!" Alistair bellowed. "Get down!" A burst of pale blue light washed over the river, and the demon turned to Alistair with a wail as it flung its arms outward, attempting to cast in vain. Natia lashed out with her blades again, and this time she struck true, straight into the demon's heart. It collapsed, wailing, and she rolled free before it could hit the ground. She stood, slashing across the neck for good measure, and then she returned to Alistair, coming up on his attacker from behind and thrusting both blades into its back. It fell, and Natia pulled her weapons free, running them through the stream to clean it.

"What happened to the pride demon?" she asked. 

"Solas and Nathaniel chased it downriver," Alistair said. "I think--" and then the air was pierced by what sounded like the crack of a whip, followed by a throaty chuckle. It was the pride demon, charging them, both arms out with its whips of lighting slashing through the air. Natia smelled ozone, and she dodged, pulling Alistair down and out of the way with her. They both scrambled back to their feet; Natia looked at Alistair, who muttered a word under his breath, then shook his head. "Can't," he said. "It's too soon, you'll have to-- ahhhhh!" 

He flew to the side, jerked down by the tether of lighting that had wrapped around his legs. The pride demon was almost on them; Natia had no to time to scream, she just charged, blades whirling around her, hoping to strike something vital and slow the demon down. It laughed again, a sound to make her skin creep, but then it stopped, the vile chuckle turning into a low howl of frustration. It was Solas's gravity blasts again, holding it still, buffeting it with force, and then one arrow landed in each eye and it was down.

Natia stepped around the body and saw Solas, racing toward her with his staff out. "Hurry!" he shouted. "The pride demon was off to alert its fellows. We turned him back, but we need to get through the rift before they see us."

She whirled around again; Alistair was still down, unconscious, lying face down in the water, and she let out a cry, running to him, rolling him over. "No, no, you can't..."

"There's no time." It was Nathaniel, running up beside her. He scooped up Alistair in his arms, then stood with a grunt. "Maker's breath, Alistair, you're heavy!"

"He's a big man," Natia said, "plus the armor, but you can't-- we can't--"

"I can do it." Nathaniel took off Alistair's helm and flung it through the rift, then shifted his load so that Alistair was hanging back off his shoulder. "Cover me." 

With heavy steps, he pushed through the green rift and vanished, Alistair with him. Natia tried to peer through to the other side, but saw only the swirling green mists. So she turned back to Solas, who still ran toward her, splashing awkwardly through the river, favoring his left foot.

"Go!" he shouted. "There's no reason to wait. If the other spirits catch us, they will kill us, or we will have to lead them away from the rift. I can distract them alone. It's not possible to keep them from coming through otherwise."

Natia shook her head. "Don't tell me what's impossible," she said. "I promised the Inquisitor I'd see you back safely and I mean to do it. Now hurry!" She sheathed her blades and took a long deep breath, flexing her hands before calling up the shadows, every shadow she could find anywhere in the Fade to shroud herself, Solas, and this Fade rift from any spirit or demon who might see them, and to confuse anything that might try to follow.

He stumbled toward her, and she reached out and caught him -- he was both injured and tired, and she wrapped an arm around his shoulder to drag him through the rift.

The transition was much easier this time; she and Solas stepped out into the late afternoon light and fell, splashing into the river, by some miracle still standing when they landed. Scattered sunbeams danced across the river, and Natia raised a hand to shield her eyes from the glare, turning back and looking up to check that the Fade rift was still there. It remained, glowing and drifting, but no demons had followed. Her ruse had worked.

"Congratulations," said Solas. "You are the first corporeal beings to successfully exit a Fade rift, save the Inquisitor herself." He looked at the rift and back at her. "I must say, I’m impressed."

Natia nodded, barely registering the compliment as she looked around for Nathaniel and Alistair. She found them, sitting on the same riverbank where she had just confronted the pride demon, Nathaniel standing and Alistair sitting, a poultice wrapped around his head. She rushed to him and cupped his face in her hands. "Are you--"

"I'm fine," he said, smiling, touching her nose. "You know I have a hard head. It'll take more than a little knock to take me out." The smile faded. "And I was facing more. A lot more. I don't know how to repay you." He looked up at Nathaniel, then over at Solas. "Any of you."

Natia knelt down beside him and kissed his forehead, then his nose, then his mouth. "Just live," she said, softly. "That's all you ever need to do."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, and she leaned their foreheads together, breathing deep. There were reckonings yet to come, she knew -- with the Inquisitor, with Hawke, with the Wardens. But none of that mattered, here on the river bank, breathing the open fresh air of Ferelden. They were alive, home, and free. Everything else could wait. And anything was possible.


End file.
